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On September 2nd 1939, my older sister, who was 21, got married. I was 16 years old and was bridesmaid with 3 other girls. It was a white wedding and all went well, but the next day war was declared. Everybody was sticking transparent paper onto their windows to prevent them from shattering and blackout curtains were put up. Ration books were issued along with gas masks and air raid shelters were erected. The Morrison Shelter, named after Lord Morrison, was a metal cage about 7ftx3x3 with a wire gate which was designed to go under a table to protect its occupants (maximum 2 people) just in case the house collapsed on them. Then their was the Anderson Shelter, which was named after an MP and made from corrugated steel and was buried about 4ft into the backyard with a door at one end which was above ground and curved. The people at home were lulled into a false sense of security because nothing happened for about 10 months. This period was called the ‘Phoney War’. The armed forces were the ones who saw the action. Dunkirk was in May 1940 and the air raids started in Britain in about August 1940.
One Saturday afternoon the sirens went off and the sky over London was absolutely crowded with German Reconnaissance planes and spitfires, on their way to areas that included the Surrey Docks and Old Kent Road Gasworks. I later found out from a television documentary that there were 1300 planes in the air that day. They had marked out an area of about 12 miles to attack. My house was in that area, and we all knew what to expect as soon as darkness fell and the German bombers started to bomb London, first came incendiaries, which caused many fires, helping the Germans see their targets, then came the bombers. The raid started at about 8pm and ended once all the bombs had been dropped. London was on fire and water mains and gas mains had been broken, so there was no means to cook a meal. Emergency services rushed into action. This included the Auxiliary Fire Service and ambulance and first aid personnel directing people to schools which had been commandeered as rest centres and where the homeless people were to sleep until somewhere else was found for them.
After that, the night raids became very regular and every night as soon as it got dark the sirens would go off, followed by the all clear at about 11pm. What with not much food and not much sleep, life was becoming difficult, but we still had to go about our daily lives. Going to work and not knowing whether or not you would get home or be killed on the way home, became frequent worries.
On Friday October 10th/11th (I’m not sure which) October, I came home from work at about 6pm and my mum said hurry up and have your tea before the sirens go. As soon as it was dark at about 7.30pm, my mum went into the Anderson Shelter in the garden next door and at about 8pm the German bombs began to drop. One bomb hit the shelter my mum was in killing 4 of the 5 occupants, which I did not learn until later. My mother and my brother-in-law of just one year were killed, along with 2 other people. I was indoors with my dad and 2 brothers, when our house collapsed around us, leaving us to choke on the dust. All we had left was what we stood up in. We tried to get into the house next door but it was impossible as the bombs had knocked the back of the houses down, but the fronts remained standing and we could not open the front door. We were all injured by flying glass and debris but none of us in my house were seriously injured, but very shocked. I remember standing on the corner of the street where we lived trying to find my mum, sister and her husband. The sightseers came and went. The warden told us that 5 people had been brought out of number 29 and had probably been taken to hospital. We had to be content with that explanation. I was taken to a first aid post, while my boyfriend and brother tried to find out what hospital my family had been taken to. By the time it was midnight, me and my dad went to St. Giles Hospital to find my mum, but while we were there my boyfriend and brother came into the hospital and said that they had been to the mortuary and told us that my mum and brother-in-law had been killed. My sister had been the only one to survive the shelter bombing and had been evacuated to Horton Hospital in Epsom, suffering from extensive head and body injuries. After staying the night in the rest centre, with not a penny between us, we had to go to Denmark Hill Salvation Army, which was about 2 miles away, to get some clothes that had to be donated. Everything was in chaos, nobody knew where anybody was and then there were the funerals to arrange, along with visits to my sister, who we had not told about the deaths of her mother and husband. As we had absolutely no money at all, I think we were given some from the warden of the rest centre for travelling to see my sister in Epsom.
I remember going to the Assistance Board asking if they could give me the money to buy black clothes for the funeral. They refused my request, saying that they didn’t supply black clothes as they were not necessary. Instead I went to the Salvation Army and sorted out clothes to wear. The funerals went from the rest centre and the staff there was very kind to us. The bombing of London continued and we still had to carry on the best we could by going to work, etc. We stayed in the rest centre for 3 weeks and then were given a requisitioned flat by the authorities. We were also given the bare essentials, such as some basic furniture and kitchen utensils, although we had to pay rent.
After these bombings, the London Blitz started, which lasted 57 nights in a row, although at the time it seemed longer. Everyone was suffering from lack of sleep and food and when we went to the cinema the film would be cut short due to an air raid warning.

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